


Imprisoned Ideals

by Shinigamibutter



Category: Thai Drama, The Edge of Seventeen (2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Lusting for the underage, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Rape/Non-con Elements, life lessons learned, nothing really happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-07 23:24:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12242658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinigamibutter/pseuds/Shinigamibutter
Summary: Pong hadn't meant to catch feelings.  Especially not for someone younger not to mention male. That didn't stop him though or from coming to understand that not all feelings go somewhere.





	Imprisoned Ideals

**Author's Note:**

> I can not be the only one who thought this setup was a little too good to pass up. I mean...Well either way it took a weird turn on me anyway. YAY! 
> 
> This is told from Pong's perspective.

The first time we met it was like something out of one of those romantic comedy movies. I knew because I'd dated enough girls who liked them to know, not because I enjoyed them myself. That first, but brief encounter had been the end of it. Once we were safely tucked away from the guys who were chasing me all similarities ended with a single line. “Take off your clothes.” Or they should have ended with that.

The similarities might have ended if I had looked away, if I hadn't pressured him into swapping clothes with me. But I did even though I wasn't sure he could fit into the tight pants I was wearing. His uniform had been an easy fit, baggy all the way around but not uncomfortable as I buttoned it up watching him. He'd turned his back towards me, shy and angry cute. I watched him anyway and when he asked why I told him the truth, that I was afraid my pants would rip on his thick legs. It was a half truth after all, I couldn't have looked away if I wanted to after seeing him bend over. Thick hips wiggling as he worked skinny jeans up, a butt wiggle a little too close for comfort and simultaneously not close enough.

He didn't catch on and kept begging me to give him an address to pick up his uniform. I caved and gave him the address to my shop. I knew once he heard it he probably wouldn't come regardless of how much he wanted his clothes back. I wasn't sure what I was more upset about losing my own clothes or never seeing this mushroom again. I told myself it was my clothes as I slipped away into the crowd, away from where I'd left him. He was a high schooler, and I doubted he was as old as I was hoping.

It didn't matter. I'd never see him again. Which is where the similarities with those romantic comedy movies ended. Like they should have in the first place. I didn't tell my crew about him even when I came back in a high school uniform they didn't question me much on who I'd gotten it from. They knew better. It certainly wasn't the first time I'd returned in clothes that weren't mine. But it was the first time I couldn't forget the person who I'd ‘borrowed’ them from.

I didn't throw the clothes out like I normally did, instead I decided to keep them for at least a few days. Suffice it to say I wasn't the only one who was taken aback when he did show up that same day. More confident than I thought he would be and a lot more annoying. Not because he was but because his thighs were entirely too pronounced in my skinny jeans. Entirely too delectable. I still didn't think anything would come of it as he started talking. All the talk of Copper was annoying too, even the fact he hit him.

Then it happened he won over my men like it was nothing. Just as effortlessly as he won over me. I felt like I was jinxed the moment he left with the promise of being back tomorrow. Which meant I'd have to compose myself by tomorrow. To stop the looks I was getting from my men, the questions and raised eyebrows. The little nudges I didn't miss as they whispered just ever so loudly about why I cared if he was there or not.

I couldn't stop them from talking, that wasn't entirely true either. I could stop them but only in my presence and that would only serve to raise further questions. Questions I did not want to answer in the least. I wasn’t even sure that I'd be able to provide answers to whatever they might ask. Though I knew it likely wasn't along the line of what I was actually thinking.

Which were thoughts even I was surprised to have. I like girls, soft curvy girls who looked at me in adoration with small eyes from pretty faces. I did not like guys, with faces too innocent for their age or big glasses that sat just so on their face. I didn't care for losers who needed to grow a spine, like him. Yet I still couldn't get his face off my mind when I settled in for the night. It wasn't the only thing I couldn't forget either.

Every time I closed my eyes trying to picture my latest conquest, in the heat of the moment thick wiggling hips came to mind instead. A curiosity that wanted fulfillment, a desire for a taste. One so strong my white eruption happened twice to the images my mind conjured. But even as I lay there panting, confused and maybe more than a little angry at myself there was a smile growing on my lips and a plan forming to just get over this one time curiosity and be done with it.

The plan came crashing down around my ankles when he did show up the next day. The mushroom went about properly introducing himself this time and along with the revelation of his name came his age. Oh, sixteen, love troubled and looking to be like me to escape the bullies. I didn't have the heart to tell him we were bullies in our own right and neither did the guys. It wasn't like we had plans to take him in, not truly anyway.

Things got dicier from there. The more Oh was around the more the guys began to talk. The more Oh began to talk. And the more hopeless I became. I always felt on the verge of doing something reckless, the closer we got the closer I felt to pinning him against the shop wall and teaching him the wicked ways of adults. I didn't. I wanted a girl.

But as things tended to go with me and the mushroom, who looked a lot less like a mushroom these days, they happened unexpectedly. I hadn't asked about his love life in a while, and he'd finally stopped talking about it. I was elated but unwilling to show it despite the quiet jabs from my men. I wasn’t willing to put a voice to the reason, which just so happened to be my overflowing spank bank of thick thighs in tight pants provided by Oh. No that wasn't true, part of me wanted to confess to reaching my climax with the image of perfect thighs wriggling into my too skinny jeans. 

When it happened I realized a confession was no longer necessary. Not when I had a messy, tall, and possibly drunk teenager in my arms. The shop had closed a while ago, Oh had come running in here just before that when it was only me left. More often than not I crashed here anyway. He didn't smell like alcohol but there was no way he was sober with the way he was clinging to me. At least part of me hoped not because otherwise I'd have to explain my boner growing against his thigh that had somehow slipped in between my own.

It hadn't been until that point that it even registered to me how much bigger he was than me. How much stronger he might be when push came to shove. The thought had me swallowing drily, in my lusty thoughts about thick thighs and guy sex I had done my research. Of course I'd also had to fight my gag reflex when even thinking about anything to do with another guy's dick. Unfortunately Oh wasn't just any other guy. And I'd realized to late that he had me pinned.

What he asked me next, to let him fuck me, told me there was no way he was sober. Yet his eyes were clear when they stared into mine, a set jaw, and determined look to go with. The same look that had won me over months ago now. I couldn't say what I felt in the moment when he took my silence as a yes mashing our lips together sloppily. When he pulled back he paused waiting, for a response I was sure but I still didn't have one. Not a verbal one anyway.

Oh took my hard dick pressed into his thigh as answer enough it seemed as he leaned down to kiss me again. I thought about resisting, I thought about saying no. But inside I knew I didn't really want to. Just like I knew this was a horrible idea and one he'd probably regret in the morning. So before he could get farther than his hands delicately slipping up my shirt, lips molded into mine, and anywhere near real sex I stopped him. All it took was one question to break both of us.

I asked him about Peach, the girl he'd always been in love with. His reaction was as if I'd thrown acid on him. And I knew that he wasn't as drunk as he'd need to be to do this, I wasn't as drunk as I'd need to be do this. Nightly sessions aside lust was one thing, what Oh had for Peach was another and I wasn't about to let him make this kind of mistake. I wasn't going to let myself get hurt by that kind of mistake.

In the end Oh apologized to me privately for a week. I never told him about my own feelings, they didn't really go away but I pushed myself into seeing different girls anyway. Slowly he started talking about Peach again and things went back to normal, that night never spoken of again. And when Peach came to claim him for herself I silently gave her my blessing. I wasn't able to keep myself from drinking that night regardless but I'd always known that sometimes your feelings just never went anywhere, even given the chance. I drank with the knowledge that life isn't like the romantic comedies.

I'd known mine and Oh's story began like a romantic comedy, but that was where the similarities ended. I'd known that then and I knew it now. That didn't make the lesson any easier to swallow but I'd never liked romantic comedies anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Ah I wrote for myself again. But I'll always accept your thoughts.
> 
> Now edited


End file.
